


Cover Me Up

by Blue_Robin



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Robin/pseuds/Blue_Robin
Summary: Robin's dress is inspired bythisone. Though I don't think the back would be so low.





	1. Chapter 1

_A heart on the run keeps a hand on the gun_  
_You can't trust anyone._  
_I was so sure what I needed was more_  
_Tried to shoot out the sun._  
_Days when we raged, we flew off the page_  
_Such damage was done_  


He lay on the ground and watched her. Her long red gold hair blowing like streamers around her face. Her face that was becoming more beautiful to him than any he’d ever seen before. She exuded such joy. He’d seen her deeply upset and he’d seen her ecstatic, but he preferred her like this, face lit with humor as she laughed unselfconsciously at Ilsa’s story.

This was his favorite version of Robin.

Open.

Free.

Happy.

As he watched her she glanced over at him, her eyes snagging on his, even through his sunglasses. He saw something shift in her blue grey eyes. Seeing that shift, he felt something clutch in his chest. That clutch was happening more and more often these days. His gaze fell to her hands, one holding a small plastic wine glass and the other fiddling with the necklace she wore all the time.

It was a rose gold disk, smaller than his thumbnail, bearing a stamped R. He’d seen it while tailing a mark on surveillance at a craft show. The person he’d been tailing had started to take notice of him wandering along the stalls after her and so he’d stopped at the next stall he’d come to, hoping she'd think he was just another shopper. He’d seen the necklace while “perusing” the items for sale and something had compelled him to purchase it. The shade of the metal had been so close to the color of her hair. And it was marked with her initial. 

It had been meant for her. 

He’d left it on her desk, sealed in a tiny plastic zip bag with the business card of the proprietor attached.

She’d never mentioned it.

Neither had he.

But he couldn’t help noticing she wore it every day.

The only other piece of jewelry he’d seen her wear that consistently was no longer on her finger.

He tried not to read too much into it. But every time he caught a glimpse of her fiddling with it, sliding the disk long the chain, or rubbing her thumb across the imprinted R, he felt warm.

She was still talking with Ilsa, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she responded with words he couldn’t hear but that made his old friend throw her head back and cackle. She fit in so nicely with his friends and their wide group of acquaintances. Ilsa, especially had grown close to her. He felt his lips curving involuntarily just watching them together.

Ilsa, in a flowy white blouse over a pair of dark blue jeans, her blonde hair caught up at the sides with clips and silver earrings dangling from her ears, couldn’t have looked less like the lawyer she was if she’d tried. But he supposed there was no need to really look like a lawyer while on a picnic in the park. And Nick certainly didn’t seem to mind when the wind fluttered the hem of her blouse, allowing a glimpse of skin just above her waistband. “I love it when she goes slightly hippie,” Nick had commented when Robin had complimented her attire upon arriving at the park.

But while he could see the appeal in Ilsa’s clothing, he preferred Robin’s outfit today. He didn’t often get to see her this way and so he’d spent most of the day covertly sneaking glances at her from behind his sunglasses.

She was the definition of summer in a dress with a skirt that was slightly longer in the back and shorter in the front. It was bright blue with a white pattern of leaves all over it. It bared her shoulders and her sternum, the straps wide and blue. It was cut to hang loose and swingy. He'd stopped trying to notice that when the breeze swirled around her the fabric clung to her figure before billowing around her. Her legs were bare from just above her knee and he was intrigued to have noticed that she apparently had a very light brown birthmark just below the bend of her left knee.

Something as simple as a birthmark shouldn’t have been as interesting as he found it. Not after having been around her for almost four years.

But it was.

And it only made him curious about what else he didn’t know about her. And not only just physically.

As beautiful as she’d become to him physically, he found her mind absolutely enthralling. It was sharp and quick, organized and detailed. She was a born investigator and her ability to set the people around her at ease was a gift he’d never understand, but one he'd come to rely on wholeheartedly.

It still seemed a miracle to him that she’d come into his life the way she had. Completely accidentally. He had no doubts that his career would have been finished if she hadn’t been sent to him by Temporary Solutions that day. She’d completely turned his agency around and he firmly believed that the best decision he’d ever made in his life had been to allow her to stay that first day.

He'd never once envisioned himself this content with his life.

He'd spent his youth fighting...with Charlotte, for Charlotte, against Charlotte. 

He'd learned not to trust anyone. 

But Robin wasn't just anyone.

More laughter rang out and he propped himself on his elbows as he heard it moving toward him. Robin was moving away from Ilsa and Nick, still giggling as she tossed a comment over her shoulder at the couple.

“We’ll see about that later you two,” she called as she stopped next to the picnic basket and cool box beside the blanket he was lounging on. She smiled down at him and sighed happily as she knelt to pop open the top of the cool box, removing a green bottle of wine and refilling her glass, saying as she did so, “What a lovely day.”

He hummed his agreement and staying propped on his elbows turned his face back up to the sky. “Nice breeze.” He kept his eyes on the leaves above them that were dancing in that breeze and tried to ignore the tightness in his chest that squeezed harder when she eased herself off her knees, her bottom resting on the blanket and her legs folded beside her. 

From his peripheral he saw her hand once again move to play with her necklace. This time raising it to her mouth to run the disc along her full bottom lip. He turned his head back to her. “You alright?” he asked as she stopped her fidgeting long enough to sip from her wine.

“Yep. You?”

“Absolutely no complaints.” He turned back to her. He could just see the edge of that birthmark. She was close enough that he could reach out and run a finger along it. The tip of his right index finger was tingling. 

She smiled at him again, her eyes flicking quickly down…at his lips?  “Ilsa says we’re just waiting on a few more people and then we can eat.”

“Did you hear my stomach rumble then?” he teased.

“All the way from over there.” She nodded her head back in Ilsa and Nick’s direction as she snickered. “You can’t tell me you aren’t hungry.”

“I’m always hungry Ellacott. Can’t help it.” He’d been seeing results from his self-imposed diet, the weight he’d continued to lose had helped with the pain in his knee immensely, but it was a fact that he felt as though he was living in a constant state of hunger. But then, that wasn’t really anything new.

He’d been hungry for many things over the course of his life.

Answers to puzzles.

Belonging.

Freedom.

Justice.

Her.

Some hungers were never satisfied though.

But there was still time. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robin's dress is inspired by [this](https://www.etsy.com/listing/182822843/ladies-swing-dress-cobalt-blue-mini-leaf?show_sold_out_detail=1) one. Though I don't think the back would be so low.


	2. Chapter 2

 

_But I made it through, ‘cause somebody knew  
I was meant for someone_

“That’s the last of it I think.” Robin handed him the last container to be stored in the picnic basket, her right index finger brushing softly against his left as he took it from her. His fingertips hadn’t stopped tingling from the moment she sat next to him on the blanket through the entire picnic.

They were helping Ilsa pack everything away to be carried to Nick’s car while Nick and Ilsa were saying goodbye to the last of the guests. “I think we should do this once a month while the weather is nice,” Ilsa sighed as she joined them, nick following behind her.

“I’m in,” Robin agreed as she finished off the last of her wine before putting the cup in the bin bag and tying it off. “Cormoran?” she asked, as he took the bag of trash from her. She bent to gather the basket of blankets and pillows that had been strewn around the grass just moments earlier and he looked away as her dress gapped slightly away from her chest.

“Sure. It was fun,” He responded, determined not to think about the swath of blue lace he’d just glimpsed. “I assume you two will arrange it and let me know when?” he said, glancing between Ilsa and Robin.

“Don’t they always Oggy?” Nick snickered as he hefted the picnic hamper, leaving Ilsa to pull the cool box along behind her on its wheels.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Nick.”

“Not at all, petal. Oggy and I just know that you two enjoy this sort of thing.” His eyes were filled with a mischievous glint as he finished, “Plus we all know how much the two of you love telling us, your menfolk, what to do.”

Cormoran waited for Robin to object to him being her “menfolk” but she just swatted Nick with the back of her hand, then hitched the basket of blankets a bit higher on her hip.

She was walking slightly ahead of him and he was enjoying seeing the birthmark he’d discovered flashing at him. It was shaped like a light brown cloud. Like Robin it had no sharp edges. Just curves and softness all the way around.

“Isn’t that right Corm?”

He shook his thoughts away from the path they’d traipsed and focused back on the conversation.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” he looked at Ilsa expectantly. “What did you say?”

“Just that we used to have picnics like this all the time in school in St. Mawes.” She glanced over at Robin. “All the girls used to practically draw straws to see who got to sit next to Corm,” she teased.

“Oh, they did not,” he burst out as he felt a flush erupt along his ears.

“They did too! I suppose you were fairly attractive back then.”

“Oh, only fairly attractive? And I’m not now?” he laughed, well aware that his nose had been broken close to a thousand times and that his eyes got crinklier by the day.

Ilsa practically danced back to him with a grin on her face, kissing his cheek before saying, “No. Sadly not.” He allowed his face to fall into the expected pout and waited. She didn’t disappoint him. Her arm wrapped around his waist and her head tilted to his shoulder as she sighed, “No. Not fairly attractive. Just ruggedly handsome.”

He turned his head to kiss the top of hers as Robin glanced back. Her grin set her eyes aglow and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning back at her. “Mad, this one is,” he said to her as he gave Ilsa a squeeze with his arm.

Upon reaching the car Cormoran set the small bag of trash on top of a trash can at the edge of the park and helped Nick lift the hamper and cool box into the boot, before turning to take the blanket basket from Robin. Her head was turned slightly away from him, looking down the street. He cleared his throat and said, “May I?” bringing her back to face him.

“Oh sorry,” she started. “I was just lost in thought.”

“Good ones?” He didn’t really know what prompted him to ask that specifically, but he was rewarded when she smiled softly up at him and leaned toward him as though to confide a secret. “Very good.”

He raised an eyebrow at her words, then gave a small nod and took the basket from her with a thoughtful quirk of his lips. Once again, he noticed her gaze dip from his eyes to just below. He nearly tripped as he caught her biting the corner of her bottom lip as he turned away.

Once everything was loaded, hugs had been given and promises made for texts the following day he and Robin waved Nick and Ilsa off. He turned toward Robin, “Need a lift?”

“Sure. I had Paul drop me off at their house this morning on his way to rehearsals, so I could help Ilsa,” she replied.

“Why didn’t you drive yourself over?”

“He’s borrowing the Rover while his car is in the shop.”

“Ahh. Well. I’m happy to take you wherever you desire.” He finished with a flourish indicating she should proceed him.

She started along the pavement while he quickly lit a fag and caught up to her in three steps. They walked along in silence as he smoked. He enjoyed this about Robin, that she didn’t need to fill every silence with noise. She wasn’t a chatterer. Even if she was his favorite person to talk to.

She glanced up at the sky, then pulled out her phone. She unlocked it and tapped an app, then glanced back up at the sky. “I think it’s going to…” She trailed off as the first drops fell, splattering her upturned face with abandon. “Raiiin!!” She squealed.

“Shit!” He dropped his cigarette and grabbed for her hand as she dashed toward the awning of a little shop just ahead of them. The shop was closed for the day already, but they squeezed into the doorway together to escape what had rapidly become a downpour.

She leaned back against the wall and ran her hands over her face, smoothing her sodden hair off her forehead and wiping under her eyes in what he guessed was an attempt to remove the mascara that was starting to slightly run. “Bugger,” she muttered as she looked at her fingers and saw the smudges of black on the tips. “Is it bad?” she asked him, tilting her face to his.

He stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment, his senses filled with the petrichor from the rain that was mixing with her perfume and affecting his thoughts like four shots of whiskey would.

Her skin was damp.

Her eyes laughing.

Her lips parted.

He leaned forward, and she tilted her face higher.

Suddenly he was tasting her. His tongue running over her bottom lip, testing its firmness, then diving into her mouth. She tasted of white wine and laughter. Sweet and sparkling.

Her tongue chased his as her hands gripped his slightly damp shirt, pulling him closer. He wrapped his right arm tightly around her waist and palmed the back of her head with his left hand, his thumb brushing against the softness of her earlobe.

The rain fell as though being poured from the heavens as he kissed her with abandon. His right hand was clutching the back of her dress, her warmth radiating to his fingers through the damp fabric. He could feel the lace on the band of her bra and was struck, suddenly, with what he was doing.

He eased himself back from her with a final stroke of his tongue along her lower lip. A stroke she followed with her own tongue.

He groaned as he watched her eyes flutter open and meet his, dazed.

He said nothing. Just tried to calm his breathing and waited.

“Well…that was…” She blinked slowly.

“Hmmm,” he hummed low in his throat.

“That was…just…” She tightened her fists in his shirt and tugged. “Just…do it again, would you?”

And she met him halfway this time, on her tiptoes, as his mouth brushed against hers once, twice, before trailing along her cheek to investigate her jawline. Her gasp of surprise when he bit her earlobe nearly sent him up in flames.

Her skin was so soft against his lips. Warm behind her ear where he was nuzzling his nose into her hair as he kissed the skin along her hairline.

Her face was still tilted up and he could feel her breaths ruffling the hair at his temple. The chain of the necklace she wore pressed against his lips as he traveled along her neck. He felt her lips press against that temple as she brought her right hand up and buried her fingers in the damp curls long the side and back of his head.

He tugged on her hair, pulling her head back even further and to the side, angling her so that he could kiss along the curve of her neck and shoulder, his right hand coming up to skim along the strap of her dress, nudging it out of the way, off her shoulder so that the skin of her entire shoulder was bare to him.

He angled himself so that she was hidden behind him and no one outside their shelter would be able to see her, despite the rain still falling steadily beyond the doorway. He busied himself kissing and lightly biting the skin there. Tasting the rain and Robin as she pressed him closer with a breathy sigh.

“God Cormoran…”

He answered with another “Hmmm” and slid the strap of her dress lower along her arm, allowing him to see that the blue lace he’d glimpsed earlier was nothing more than a band around her breasts, gathered in the middle. He could see her puckered nipple under the lace and ached to taste it.

Instead he contented himself with brushing his thumb over it through the lace as he cupped her breast and whispered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend this to happen.”

“You mean…” she replied between gasps of pleasure. “You didn’t…Oh god…plan to ravish me in a doorway in the rain today?”

He chuckled against the curve of her neck, breathing in her floral scent. “No. I hadn’t intended to ravish you at all. At least not really.”

She pulled away, forcing him to look her in the face and waiting until his eyes met her passion glazed ones. “Well…I guess you’ll have to finish now that you’ve started.”


	3. Chapter 3

_So, girl leave your boots by the bed_  
_We ain’t leaving this room_  
_‘Til someone needs medical help_  
_Or the magnolias bloom_

Her words, whispered and unexpected, spurred him to action. Glancing behind him at the rain still falling steadily he grinned down at her, sliding his hand down her bare arm until her hand clasped his firmly.

“Ready?” he asked and at her nod they stepped out into the rain.

Walking as fast as they possibly could, due to his leg, they headed toward his car, parked at the end of the next block. Robin’s hand slid from his as they reached the car. Pulling the keys from his pocket he opened the drivers side door and waited.

She grinned at him across the top of the car, then dashed around to him. As he held the door for her she rose on her toes, heedless of the rain they were both completely soaked by and pressed her lips to his.

He gripped the top of the car door between them tightly, chaining back his need to touch her again, positive that if he gave in to that urge, they’d never make it to where ever they were going next. He was pretty sure that if he touched her again he’d likely drag her to the front of the car and have her on the bonnet.

Privacy be damned.

He felt the keys slipping from his fingers and opened his eyes just as she ended the kiss and lowered herself into the drivers seat.

“Hurry up Cormoran,” she urged as she slid the keys into the ignition and started the car. “If you take much longer your leg’s going to rust.”

He couldn’t stop the burst of laughter as he slammed the car door shut and crossed in front of the car to join her. He slid into his seat to find she’d already turned on the heater to warm them up and prevent the windows from fogging and as soon as his door slammed shut she took off into the street like a bolt of lightning.

He hurriedly buckled his safety belt before turning to her, “Where are we off to?”

“Your place.”

“Really?” This surprised him.

“Yes.” She glanced over at him briefly before focusing back on the road. “Paul will be home at six and somehow,” a pause and another glance, this one full of heat and anticipation, “I don’t think we’re going to be near done with each other by then.”

His eyes took in her soaked dress, clinging to her thighs as she drove, the drops of rain clinging to her chest, the one just rolling off the disk of her necklace, begging his finger to catch it. He gave in to the urge and traced his finger over the disk, gathering the moisture before sliding that finger down the line of her sternum to the edge of the neckline of her dress.

He could see the pulse in her neck beating and yearned to press his lips just there, just to see if he could feel it beat harder, faster, under his lips.

She brought the car to a stop at a traffic light and snapped off the heater, flipped on the emergency blinkers and rammed the car into park. Her left hand snaked around the back of his head and pulled him to her, crushing her lips to his.

His hands framed her face, sliding along her neck, one sliding into her wet hair, the other palm curving over her collarbone, his index finger tracing the chain draped around her neck.

Horns blasted suddenly, and they broke away, from each other to discover the light had turned green. She flipped the defogger back on, clearing the windscreen almost instantly and shifted back to drive, while he pressed the buttons to turn the emergency blinkers off.

She sped through London toward Denmark Street and he watched her, his arousal ratcheting higher and higher as she swung around cars and cursed under her breath each time she was forced to slow.

Finally, they reached the garage he stored the BMW in. She swung into the driveway, flipping the visor down to find the keycard that would raise the gate so she could park, and whipped the car through the levels to his reserved space.

She simultaneously slammed the gearshift into park as she removed her seatbelt, twisting her body around so that she was kneeling in the seat of the car. He pressed the button to release his own belt and turned only to have his mouth once more under assault as her hands dragged at his shirt, loosening the buttons and trying to pull it from the waistband of his trousers.

His mouth coasted along her collarbones as she pushed up to her knees so that she was slightly higher than him, holding his head to her as he traced the indention between her collarbones with the tip of his tongue. She groaned his name and slid one hand down the back of his loosened collar, nails scratching lightly at his back as he pushed the strap of her dress down her arm again, revealing blue lace that was just as quickly pushed down.

He slumped slightly down into his seat to allow her to kneel over him, her back almost pressed against the roof of the car as his right hand lifted her breast and his mouth sealed around her erect nipple, eliciting a desperately whispered, “Oh my fucking…” from her lips, only to be cut off by a groan as his other hand bunched the skirt of her dress higher so that he could slide his fingers up her thigh.

She squirmed, trying to feel more of him against her, but this only resulted in her hip bumping against the steering wheel. He released her breast with a frustrated groan, pressing his forehead to her chest, rubbing the bridge of his nose along the softness of her bared breast. “Think you can make it to the building?”

“Can you?” She moaned as his lips found her nipple again, kissing and nipping it lightly.

In answer he gently tugged the blue lace back over her breast, kissing her nipple tenderly through it, then lifted her dress strap back onto her shoulder. He grasped her jaw in his hand and pulled her to him, kissing the tip of her nose. “Your patience will be rewarded,” he rasped.

“It better be,” she replied, before snatching the keys from the ignition and wresting the door open.

He waited for her as she slung her bag over her chest and slammed the car door shut then joined him at the boot of the car. Taking her hand in his again, they walked briskly toward the exit.

The rain was still falling steadily as they reached the ground floor and they ducked their heads as they dashed from the garage toward their office building, still holding tightly to one another’s hand.

Robin produced the key and unlocked the foyer door, slipping in ahead of him as he pushed the door open for her. She looped the keys around her finger as she started up the stairs, the hem of her dress flirting with the birthmark just under her knee, tantalizing him, taunting him.

She reached the landing outside their office and started unlocking the door without a word, swinging the door open and dropping the keys into her bag and then her bag on the floor. He followed her inside and turned to close and lock the door behind him before turning back to see Robin, silhouetted in the dim gloom from the windows, standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes blazing into his, blue flame clouded with smoke and desire.

“Now?” she asked

“God yes,” he groaned as she lowered both straps from her shoulders and her dress fell with a soft whisper of fabric to the floor of their office, revealing the curves he felt he’d been dreaming of every night since he’d almost knocked her down the stairs four years ago.

The blue lace covering her breasts was matched by another swath of blue spanning her hips. Her stomach was slightly curved, and her thighs were long and lean.

No dream could have prepared him for the reality of Robin.

No fantasy could have shown him the beauty she’d just revealed so daringly.

No daydream could have prepared him for the desire this woman aroused in him.

Reality was so much better.


	4. Chapter 4

_So cover me up_   
_and know you’re enough_   
_to use me for good_

 

He lifted his right hand, index finger pointed toward the ceiling, and circled it, “Turn around,” he requested, his voice soft.

She obliged him, turning to face the windows and pulling her hair over her shoulder, baring the skin of her back to him. Her profile limned by the shadows hovering in the room, she watched him slowly, deliberately move toward her, while he unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on top of her dress.

She remained perfectly still. He could see her ribs expand and contract as he came closer and he reached out, his left hand landing on her hip. His right arm slipped around her to press just under her breasts, pulling her firmly back against his chest.

Her head fell back against his shoulder as he held her there and he leaned his head against hers, drawing out the moment, enjoying the way her body pressed against his.

Her skin was smooth and warm and slightly damp. Her scent enhanced by the heat rising between them.

His thumb stroked the skin above her waistband in slow circles before edging over to trace the ridge of her hipbone. She arched her neck back further against his shoulder, inviting his mouth to taste.

He accepted.

Allowing his mouth to roam her neck he slid both hands along her sides, hooking his thumbs under the lace covering her breasts and sliding it up. Her arms lifted, and he stopped nuzzling her neck long enough to tug it over her head.

He took her chin in his right hand, pressing her head back and angling it so that he could meet her mouth with his, while his left hand cupped her breast, holding it gently, her nipple tightening against his palm.

Every movement she made radiated her complete surrender to him, to this moment. Every gasp, every moan as he pressed and stroked and teased her skin with his hands and mouth.

He murmured softly to her, “Breathe, Ellacott,” as his hand dipped below her waist, sliding easily between legs that started to shake as he felt the damp warmth radiating into his hand.

“You’re trembling,” he whispered with a  soft chuckle against her hair as he kissed her temple.

His fingers rippled against her center, as though she were a piano. Moisture gathering on his fingertips.

“Mmm. Isn’t that lovely.”

“Fuck…Cormor..” She trailed off as he pressed more firmly against her, the top edge of his palm resting exactly against her clit as his index and middle fingers slipped just a little into the warmth just below. Her hips jerked and the thumb and index finger of the hand still cupping her breast lightly pinched her nipple in a silent gentle admonishment not to move. “Oh God.”

“Would you do something for me Ellacott?” His voice was hoarse with need. Feeling her wet and desperate for him was edging him closer to his breaking point, but he wanted something first.

“Yesssss,” she sobbed as her hips ground down again, his fingers sliding completely into her. “Ohhh, god yes.”

“Good.” He smiled to himself as she let out a gasping whine when he slid his fingers from her and released her breast. He took her shoulders in his hands and slowly, carefully guided her around to her desk, pushing aside her keyboard and helping her boost herself up so that she was sitting, legs spread wide, on the edge.

She shivered as the cool surface of the desk met her bare warm skin, but her arms lifted to him as he leaned down to ravish her mouth with hard and ravenous kisses. He felt her hand slipping through his hair again and briefly thought that nothing had ever felt as good as her nails against his scalp while his hands smoothed over her skin.

He eased her back until she was resting on her elbows. His palms pressed against the desk on either side of her body as he began a slow descent, traveling down the center of her chest, kissing along the side of each breast. Tiny nips and licks, savoring the sound of her short gasps and shuddering breaths.

Her hands grasped his wrists, gripping tightly as he reached her abdomen and the top of the lace hiding her from him. He turned his head, resting his cheek against her abdomen for a moment, as he pulled the chair she used every day toward him and lowered himself into it.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her pants and felt immense satisfaction as her hips lifted immediately to allow the fabric to be tugged away. He smiled against her skin and moved closer to her, rolling the chair closer.

His palms slid down the length of her thighs and to the underside of her knees. It did not escape him that he was, at that moment, touching the birthmark he’d discovered earlier today. He allowed his fingers to press there for a moment, a little promise to himself, before lifting her legs and carefully setting her feet on his own thighs.

The hair that had been damp a little while ago was now drying, spread across her desk and falling off the other edge.

He bent his head.

And feasted.

Her back arched and she cried out, her hands tightening in his hair, to the point of a delicious pain, pressing him closer as he tasted her. She was sweet and salty and the fingers he eased into her were immediately grasped in a warm, wet, vice. She pulsed with the pleasure he was driving her toward.

He could feel his cock pulsing the same rhythm, desperate to ease into her and feel her warmth.

Her right hand released his head and slammed down onto the desk, fingers gripping the edge, as her orgasm exploded.

He followed the jerk of her hips, giving her no quarter, wringing every tremor and jerk from her, even as his left hand fell to his belt buckle, wrenching it open.

“Now…now…God Cormoran now…please,” she begged as he stood and kicked the chair away, freeing himself from his jeans.

Her eyes flew open, latching onto his, as he pressed into her. Her hips swiveled again almost making him loose himself then and there. Her hands grasped his hips and she pulled him against her harder as she scooted herself further to the edge of the desk to take him deeper.

“Please…” she gasped as she slid her hands to his chest, unable to find anything to hold onto to pull him tighter.

He grasped her hips, lifting her slightly from the desk and thrust once, deeply.

“CORMORAN!!!!” She pleaded, unable to move her hips to force him to go faster. “GOD! Please!!!”

He broke.

His hips slammed into hers over and over.

He distantly heard her sounds of pleasure as he unknowingly whispered, “Robin, fuck…god…Robin.”

Her hands gripped his hips again, the edges of her nails biting into the sides of his ass as she reached climax again.

He watched her as she fell over the edge of that pleasure, her skin flushing, her eyes sightless and felt himself fall, reaching for her, sliding a hand under her neck and dragging her up off the desk so that her legs wrapped around his hips and her arms clasped around his back.

Their lips met as the world around them dissolved into nothing but the two of them.


	5. Chapter 5

_And the old lovers sing_   
_“I thought it’d be me who helped him get home”_

The sunlight streaming in through the window revealed creamy skin, slightly marred by faint pink whisker burns. He smiled, remembering how those burns got there the night before.

She’d come home from a bout of surveillance, carrying Chinese food in a plastic bag. Her eyes had been tired, but her smile had been warm, and he’d been unable to help himself at the sight of her with her hair in a ponytail and her shoulders bared by the vest top she’d worn to blend better with the crowds around Piccadilly Circus. He’d taken the bag from her, setting it to the side before gathering her into his arms.

“Long day?” he’d asked as she’d rested her head against his chest.

“Not really. Just boring.”

“Makes it long.”

A soft laugh, “It really does.”

Her hands were stroking softly along his back. She did this often. Her hand on his arm, her head on his shoulder, her arm tucked through his, all these things had become commonplace to him now.

Commonplace.

But not overlooked.

Never taken for granted.

They’d gone four years hardly touching each other and yet, it had taken him no time at all to crave her hand in his, her cheek on his chest, her legs slung over his.

Robin’s affection was often unconsciously and quietly given, and he soaked it up like a sponge.

He kissed the top of her head and ran his hand down the bright tail of hair, tugging the end gently so that she looked up at him.

“I’ll take it tomorrow,” he murmured as he bent to kiss her.

“Mmmm.” Her fingers tightened on his back. “Or we could do it together. It is Saturday after all.”

“Even better.” His hands had slid under her top and were smoothing along the cage of her ribs, fingertips pressing gently into the muscles along her spine, causing her to arch slightly in pleasure.

Moans and sighs and whispers of desire had filled the tiny attic room as he’d undressed her, and laid her back on the bed, taking his time and helping her work up an appetite.

They’d eaten the Chinese at the tiny table, two hours later, her dressed in one of his old t-shirts and nothing else, before falling back into bed where she’d laid her cheek against his chest and absently played with his chest hair while he’d told her about the consults he’d done that afternoon. She’d drifted off sometime around his deliberately tedious explanation of the bank manager who thought one of his assistant managers was planning a coup.

Waking next to her warm presence had become the best part of his morning routine. As he swung his legs off the side of the bed and scrubbed his hand through the sleep rumpled curls on the top of his head, he glanced back at her, savoring the pleasure of seeing Robin in repose.

Her lips were sleep swollen, making them even plumper than they normally were, her lashes bare of any mascara were fluttering with what he guessed must be a dream. Her legs were tangled with the sheet and duvet they’d both divested themselves of sometime in the night, one still tucked under the cover, the other bent at the knee and resting on top. Her breasts were bared and tipped with blush pink nipples that were pebbled in the cool air. Her hair was coming loose from the plait she’d started to sleep in now that her hair was midway down her back.

She was more gorgeous than anything he’d ever seen.

Six months of her in his bed.

Six months of peace and contentment he’d never felt before.

He leaned down and kissed the soft skin between her breasts, feeling her heart beating just under his lips. She stirred slightly, a hand lifting to slide over his head, down his cheek and back to rest on the bed next to her pillow, palm up, fingers in a relaxed curve.

He grinned and turned to the end of the bed, where his prosthesis was propped. He slid it into place and stood, heading toward a shower, detouring into the kitchen momentarily to flip on the kettle.

He’d just finished brushing his teeth when he heard her shuffling around in the kitchen making their morning tea.

So routine.

And yet, not.

Very little about life with Robin was routine. It could never be, not with their chosen profession. But she was as dependable as sunrise in this and a great many other things. It was comforting in a way he’d never realized he’d been looking for.

He exited the shower and dried off, wrapping a towel about his waist before opening the door and heading toward his bureau for a fresh pair of boxers.

“Morning,” Robin yawned at him as she leaned against the counter where their tea was steeping.

“Morning. D’you fancy eggs?” he asked as he went about dressing.

“Mmmm. Sounds good.” She set his tea on the side table next to him and dropped a kiss on his head as he finished tying his boots and slid a hand up her calf, pausing just below the back on her knee for a moment. “I’ll just take a quick shower.” She wandered off, carrying her tea mug with her into the loo.

Fifteen minutes later she was dressed in khaki shorts and a green and white striped low-necked t-shirt. Her hair had been brushed and tugged into a messy knot on her head. She was just brushing a light coat of mascara on her lashes as he laid both of their plates with toast and eggs on the table.

“Could you help me with this?” She held up the rose gold chain. “I broke my thumbnail last night and I can’t keep the clasp open long enough to clasp it,” she explained as he arrived behind her and took the two ends of the chain, hooking it for her, then smoothing his finger along the chain to the disk resting just in the middle of her chest.

“Thanks,” she grinned at him in the mirror as he kissed the side of her neck before tugging her toward the table.

As she took her first bite of cheesy eggs she said, “I know we’re meant to be on surveillance, but I plan to enjoy the day today. It’s not often we get to be outside, together, in the daylight.”

“He’ll definitely be there today?” he asked.

“He usually is. His mother says that’s where he ‘sets up shop.’” Their mark was a teen, a musician. They’d been tailing him at the behest of his very overprotective mother who believed he was using busking as a front of selling drugs.

So far, after three days, neither of them had seen any sign of him doing anything more than playing his guitar and singing slightly offkey covers.

It was an easy surveil. And it would be enjoyable to spend a day with her in the sunshine. It was an odd feeling to be excited about doing surveillance.

They finished their breakfast and Robin popped the dishes in the sink while he gathered his keys, cigarettes and phone. She looped her bag over her shoulder and they set off down the stairs and out the door.

They arrived just as their mark was opening his guitar case and wandered along, while keeping him in their sights.

They settled on a bench close enough by that they’d be able to see him and entertained themselves by intermittently speculating on the people who were stopping to watch their mark play while also discussing the emails Robin was screening on her phone.

Shortly after he’d returned to the bench from procuring them each a coffee, Cormoran’s eyes were snagged by a woman, dressed in white, crossing the pavement toward the bench they were occupying.

 “No…” Robin was laughing. “I think you were wrong. She’s clearly a recording executive, out to sign the next great artist,” she snickered as she continued watching a woman who was, by all appearances, in her middle seventies, shake their marks hand exuberantly while gesticulating excitedly at his guitar and the crowd gathered.

He turned away from the woman pumping the guitarists hand as though he were a well pump and catching sight of how much closer the woman in white was he bent his head toward Robin’s ear, just as the woman called out to him in a clear and melodious voice, “Bluey! What a coincidence!”


	6. Chapter 6

_…home was a dream_  
_One that I’d never seen_  
_‘til you came along_

He felt Robin’s shoulder tense up against his as she registered who’d just called out. He groaned quietly, a noise of frustration and aggravation and stood to intercept Charlotte, accepting the kiss she landed on his cheek, though he wished for nothing more than to be able to slap a hand over her face and push her away. But he knew Charlotte well enough to know that she’d made a scene if he’d tried to avoid her “affection” and a scene was the last thing he and Robin needed at the moment.

He felt Robin hovering at his side and glanced over at her, but her attention was still on the guitarist they were tailing. He looked back to Charlotte just as she asked, “How have you been?”

“Fine,” he answered. “Good.”

Charlotte’s eyes were glittering green washed through brown. Her face a study of delight as she asked, “And business?”

He couldn’t help but notice that she’d not once looked at Robin, her presence at his side going completely unacknowledged, and he knew she’d have seen them laughing on the bench together. He knew her well enough to know that she’d likely been watching them for a while, studying them the way they’d been watching their mark.

“Business is good, thanks.” He felt a light touch at his shoulder as Robin leaned toward him. She’d angled her body away from Charlotte, turning so that her face would be hidden as she rose up on her toes to whisper in his ear, “Fret Atkins is on the move,” followed by a slight jerk of her head to indicate that she was going to continue tailing him.

He nodded, feeling an odd mixture of relief and trepidation. Relief that Robin was removing herself from this situation, mingled with fear that she’d not appreciate him speaking with Charlotte. Added to that was the knowledge that Charlotte wasn’t going to let him escape easily.

Charlotte finally “noticed” Robin as she turned and walked away, leaving him alone with her. “Oh dear.” She raised a hand in dismay to the base of her throat. “Is everything OK?”

“What do you want Charlotte?”

“Well I was just walking along, minding my own business and I saw you sitting here so I thought I’d stop and say hello.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I haven’t seen you in ages and I’ve been wondering how you are. The papers have been quiet lately.”

“I’m fine. Everything is fine,” he replied brusquely. But he knew it wouldn’t work.

“You might ask how I am, Bluey,” she pouted up at him.

He pinned her with a look he hoped radiated his indifference, and indeed, he was indifferent. This woman who had, for years, held sway over him and kept him hooked like a fish on the line, reeling him in and then letting the line spool out and then reeling him in again.

It was a shocking relief to realize that she was nothing compared to the peace he’d discovered with Robin.

“And how are you Charlotte?” His tone flat and bland.

“Quite well thank you. Especially now that I’m free of the ‘parasites’,” she shuddered with loathing and again he was struck by the complete difference between her and Robin.

Unable to think of a response to such a statement, he just continued staring at her.

“I’ve started divorce proceedings.” She stepped closer. “I told you I would. As soon as I had them I called a lawyer. Jago is making things difficult of course.” She waved a hand through the air.

He stepped back, his calf brushing the bench he and Robin had been sharing only moments ago. He looked away, hoping to catch a glimpse of bright reddish gold hair, and the courage it would bring him.

“Charlotte, I told you the last time I saw you,” he looked back at her, his eyes locking onto the hazel irises that were already narrowing in vexation. “I’m not interested.” Each word falling with thunderous force.

A perfectly plucked and shaped black eyebrow winged up, arching in skepticism, “You said you’ve never loved anyone else the way you love me Bluey, so excuse me if I don’t believe you.” Her tone was patronizing and filled with scorn. Her hand swept back out to snatch at his arm as he made to turn away from her. “You always come back. Always.”

He laid his hand over hers, prying it away from his arm before releasing it and once again, stepping away. He tilted his head to the side, his hands sliding into the pockets of his slacks and said, “You know, the thing is I didn’t lie when I said that to you. I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you.”

She smiled, certain that she’d just won. But he continued, “I hope I never love someone that way again. Destructively. Obsessively. It’s not healthy. It’s not sane.”

She gasped, stumbling back as though he’d struck her.

“Good luck Charlotte,” he smiled as he turned and walked away, following the path Robin had taken in pursuit of Fret Atkins.

He didn’t look back to see if Charlotte stayed.

It didn’t matter.

He slid his phone from his pocket and pressed the speed dial to connect him to Robin.

She answered his call immediately with, “You OK?”

He sighed, “Are you?”

“Yep.”

“Where are you?”

“Up at The Queens Head.” He could hear the grin in her voice. “Already got you a pint.”

“You’re a wonder.”

“Hurry.” The line disconnected.

Five minutes later he pushed through the door of the pub, spotting Robin’s bright hair immediately. He felt a lightness at the sight of her, smiling at him over the rim of her wine glass. He sank down across from her, onto a red topped stool, and lifted the full pint glass waiting for him.

After a healthy swig that left a little over half the glass full, he met Robin’s eyes and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I just am.”

“Cormoran, that’s stupid.” She reached across the table, laying her hand over his. “You had no idea she’d come along then, and you have nothing to feel guilty or sorry for. I know what she is to you.”

That took him aback. “You do?”

“She’s the woman you’ve loved for over sixteen years. You were engaged. You have a history. Of course I get it.”

“Robin…”

“Seriously, it’s OK Cormoran. You don’t have to explain.” She smiled at him and sipped from her glass as she squeezed his hand.

“I do though. Because you don’t get it.” He looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Do you remember coming to find me during the Landry case? When I was utterly pissed and you took me to get a kebab.”

She nodded.

“Remember I told you that Charlotte had said she was pregnant, and then she wasn’t and I told you it was all a game. Everything with Charlotte is a game. It always was. Everything.” He could feel his neck wanting to give in to the urge to hang his head in shame for the sixteen years he’d spent playing that game. But he swallowed another mouthful of beer and continued.

“I stopped playing.”

“I know you did. I know Cormoran.”

“She’s lies and games and I stopped playing and I found something else.” He met her eyes again, her grey blue eyes so beautiful and kind, full of warmth and Robin. “I found you.”

He turned his hand over under hers and grasped it, “You arrived that day, so pretty and neat and polite.” He chuffed out a laugh, remembering, “I almost killed you trying to chase Charlotte. But you stopped me.” He dragged the hand not clutching hers through his hair. “God I was so embarrassed.” He glanced up at her as he felt her hand jerk in his, saw she was laughing silently.

“But you were so polite and then Bristow came, and you were so efficient. The case distracted me, then you distracted me and then, before I knew it, I couldn’t imagine the agency without you.”

“So, you begged me to be your partner,” she was grinning at him.

He smiled back on a chuckle and lifted her hand to press his lips to her knuckles as he had the afternoon he’d officially asked her to be his partner. “I did. I’d have done anything to keep you. For the business.” He paused. “And for me.”

She went still. Her eyes wide.

He plunged on, drawing patterns in the condensation on his pint glass with his free hand as he tried to explain. “And then, the leg and Laing and that night I found you in the pub and you’d left Matthew and I was…” He sighed deeply, “God Robin, you told me what had happened to you and what Matthew had done and I wanted nothing more than to beat him to a bloody pulp but I also…” He just looked at her, knowing that what he’d felt then was in his eyes now. “We both know I didn’t act on it. Then there was Barrow and that _thing_ just grew.” He shook his head. “God, Venetia Hall.”

“Really?” Robin was gaping at him in astonishment.

“Almost from the moment I met you I was attracted to your thought processes,” he shrugged. “They were interesting and different from mine. You’re a natural investigator, Robin. But when you invented Venetia Hall…I was sunk. Your mind, your enjoyment of the job, your dedication to it…it was so bloody sexy.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been told my mind was sexy,” Robin half scoffed.

“’Course not. Not when you look the way you do.” His eyes scanned what he could see of her figure.  “Most men wouldn’t take the time to realize how sharp your mind is.”

“But you did.”

“Couldn’t help it. You made me. And I’d ruthlessly imposed my own barriers. ‘This far’ I told myself. ‘This far and no further.’ But you’d left him and I allowed myself to start thinking, allowed those barriers to erode a little on that trip to Barrow.” He shrugged again, “But then you went back to him and I was…” he trailed off.

“You were, what?” Her voice was soft with understanding.

“Angry. I was so angry. Then Brockbank and I sacked you and well…we don’t have to go into that, but then, I got Laing and the first person I wanted to talk to was you. But…”

“Fucking Matthew.”

He nodded, “But you married him, and we spent that year just…” Trailing off again he sighed.

She nodded, understanding him completely.

“What I’m saying, what I’ve been trying to say anyway, is that I don’t love her. I haven’t. Not for a long time.” He took a deep breath.

“I’ve spent most of my life not really having a home. First moving about with mum, then the Army, then on and off with Charlotte, going back and forth between her and Nick and Ilsa’s. The office is the first place I’d ever truly been able to call mine. And then you came along and made it ours. I’d always thought that Charlotte and I were meant to be together. But Charlotte is nothing compared to you. She’s not my home. She’s nothing compared to the peace I’ve found with you. The home I have in you. I can’t even try to quantify the love I have for you, Robin. It’s bigger than anything I’ve ever known.”

Those eyes misted over, foggy blue. “Cormoran…” she whispered.

“I’ve been in love with you for ages. For so long.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she nearly sobbed.

“I wanted to give you time. Cunliffe put you through the wringer and I didn’t want to push you. So I waited.” He chuckled and looked down at the table, rubbing the back of his neck, “Ilsa and Nick kept on at me to go for it. They thought we’d make a great couple.”

“They aren’t wrong,” she laughed and swiped away the tears that had spilled over. “We really do.”

“So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that Charlotte ruined our surveillance date. But you are the only person I want to be with. The only one I want to wake up next to. And I know we don’t get many opportunities to spend the day together and I hate that she bollocksed it up.”

“Oh stop…Please…” She squeezed his hand. “If she hadn’t, who knows when you’d have told me you love me. And then I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that I’m completely mad for you.”

“Thank God,” he exhaled in relief. “I worried that it would be too soon.”

“Cormoran, we’ve been sleeping together for six months,” she giggled. “I’ve practically moved into your flat. Of course it’s not too soon.”

She slid out from the booth across from him and held out her hand. “I love you, Cormoran. To distraction.” She bent down and kissed his temple before whispering seductively in his ear, “And I think you should let me take you home and show you how much.”

He took her hand and got to his feet and leaving the half empty pint on the table they left the pub and started the short journey back to Denmark Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title and lyrics posted at the beginning of each chapter are from one of my newest favorite songs, Cover Me Up by Jason Isbell. 
> 
> Jason is a singer-songwriter from Alabama whose music is just heartwrenchingly lovely. 
> 
> The first time I heard Cover Me Up, I immediately saw Strike and Robin and I knew I had to write a piece with the lyrics as a guide and I knew that it would need to be from Cormoran's perspective. 
> 
> I'm so happy that it's finished and I hope you've all enjoyed it. I know I've loved every minute spent with these two in my head. 
> 
> Thank you for all the wonderful support and comments along the way. I cherish them all. So much. So so much. 
> 
> xxx,  
> Rose


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